


Late Changes: A Tale of Two Co-Hosts

by goldenlightsup



Series: One-Shots [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Cute, Drama, Fluff, Fun, Late Late Show, Lie Detector Test, M/M, One-Shot, co-hosts, fill your guts or spill your guts, harry and louis are co-hosts, it's basically just fluff and fun, kiss, larrystylinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenlightsup/pseuds/goldenlightsup
Summary: In which Harry and Louis are co-hosts of Late Changes, Liam, Zayn, and Niall are in a trio called Midnight Memories, and Hazza and Lou are the two most oblivious idiots on planet Earth.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: One-Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025332
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	Late Changes: A Tale of Two Co-Hosts

Harry had always liked being center-stage, no matter what the reason. He basked in the glory of bright spotlights illuminating his face as he stepped onto his late-night show's television set. Louis, on the other hand, was a tad more reserved, at least in the public eye. Around friends and colleagues, the man could never bite his tongue. He always had to be saying something, doing something (or someone, as he might jest), making a joke of something.

Maybe that's why Late Changes worked so well: their dynamic was unmatchable. One loved being onstage, the other loved it as long as he had a friend by his side and a wisecrack to pull out of his ass. They were the perfect match. Everyone thought so, and everyone is, like, a lot of people. It's no wonder theirs is the most popular and highly-rated television show on TV. Well, that, and they were both insanely attractive. From the moment the green-eyed god and the brown-haired angel smiled into a lens, they had the whole world entranced. They knew it, they loved it, and they thrived off of it.

"Hey, Lou," Harry called to his co-host, trying and failing to fix his disorderly tie. "I'm having a bit of trouble. I, uh," he turned and grimaced sheepishly at his best friend, gesturing towards the black and gold monstrosity draped across his neck. "A little help, please?"

Louis peered over his shoulder, the sight of one damsel in distress (or, damsel in designer, rather. Harry's wardrobe was more colorful than a paint store. One pair of shoes probably had the accumulated cost of his entire single drawer of t-shirts and shorts) appearing before him. He laughed lightly and strode over to the dimpled man's (perhaps it's more appropriate to refer to him as a boy, considering his ripe age of twenty) side of their large dressing room, pushing his mousy hair from his eyes as he did so. Steps light and rather short, he finally stopped in front of Harry's tall, muscular figure and breathed in the sight of his co-host.

God, could he be any more perfect? Louis wondered, though, to anyone else, it would appear he could. That was part of Harry's allure, Louis decided as his fingers danced around Harry's neck. So what if he wasn't perfect? No one wanted that these days. They wanted unique and caring and charismatic and charming, and Harry Edward Styles was all of that and so much more. To Louis, that's all perfect was in his shining blue eyes.

"There, finished," he smiled, tightening the tie's triangle-shaped knot with a sharp tug. "Now, I won't be embarrassed by your incompetence."

Harry crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, feigning irritation. It was all in good fun, however. The two partners-in-crime hadn't had a dispute more serious than who got to pick the film for their weekly movie night since they met. No chance that would change because of the younger one's inability to get the bunny through the rabbit hole and run it around the tree. Or maybe that's how you tie shoes. Regardless, anyone could see that they were attached at the hip, maybe a bit more so than the average friends, but oh well. Their easy banter made for good entertainment, which made for happy executives, which made for heavy wallets, so who were they to question it? (The fans often did, though, resulting in countless fan pages dedicated to the "abstract" idea of their relationship. No one took it too seriously, mainly because they didn't have much to go off of, but they still found it fun to dream about a potential showmance between Harry and Louis nonetheless).

"Hey!" Harry complained, drawing out the word in an admittedly adorable wine. "I'm not incompetent. This tie is...different or something. I'd know how to do it normally. I'm not twelve."

"Sure you're not, Hazza, and I'm sad about my breakup with Eleanor," Louis retorted sarcastically.

This made Harry laugh. The couple had been in the public eye for two years, quite some time for a stunted relationship. Naturally, Late Changes fans, as well as fashion fanatics—Eleanor Caulder was a women's clothing designer who focused primarily on twisting cliché trends and, understandably, she was rather well-liked—were devastated to hear the news. Still, the end of Louis's contract had felt like Christmas and Easter and every birthday ever celebrated all wrapped into one for the elated boy (This was the case for Harry, too, but no one needed to know that).

Now that he was a well-received public figure, Louis was allowed to date whomever he wanted, but since no one, to him, at least, would ever be as good of a fit as his clumsy, bumbling, beautiful co-host, he's decided to take a break from the whole romantic scene. That is unless one of his far-fetched fantasies about the British boy came true. But that was not going to happen. Not now, not ever, and Louis was okay with that.

Kind of.

Well, he was getting used to the idea, anyway. Give him a break. Anyone who's had a crush for more than two years knows how horrible watching the one you love focus on another was, and Louis wanted to forget the possibility of ever being with Harry, really, he did. It's just, no matter how many girls he tried to like, it didn't help his fervent desire to hold Harry's hand and cuddle with him during scary movies and...yeah. He was in deep. So was Harry, obviously, but both boys (or men, depending on how you look at it) were infuriatingly oblivious to the other's blatant affection.

"Well, the media sure was," Harry grinned, admiring his tie in the full-length mirror by his cluttered vanity. "I mean, 's been a month, right?" Louis nodded in confirmation. "Right, a bloody month, and they're still writing articles on how heartbroken both of you are." The emerald-eyed boy slipped into a formal, Clever News-type tone as he continued, "Twenty-year-old television host Louis Tomlinson reveals his breakup with twenty-one-year-old adored clothing designer Eleanor Calder was 'the lowest point in his life.' Sources say he cries to his Hannah Montana posters every night, longing for the days when the couple would paint each other's nails and gush over Ryan Gosling's hunky six-pack.'"

"Oh, piss off," Louis groaned, jabbing Harry's shoulder lightly. Harry was one of the only people that knew about Louis's sexuality, which only made bottling up his feelings for the curly-headed wonder that much harder. Harry doesn't swing that way, he often reminded himself to suppress his emotions. As far as the idiot knew, that was true, and Louis was not one to overstep boundaries. "Besides, why would I fantasize over him when I've got you as wank material?"

Joking as his tone was, Louis kind of, sort of wasn't necessarily lying about that iota of information.

"Right," Harry laughed. "Bet you spent your pap walks arguing over which of my four nipples was the bestest."

"'Bestest' isn't a word," Louis replied simply, because he really was ready to admit that he had, in fact, ranked Harry's nipples from best to worst, the top left coming in at number one due to its adjacent freckle. But again, Harry didn't need to know that.

"And listening to The Fray and Oasis isn't a personality trait, but that doesn't stop you from being stuck in the 2000s," Harry responded casually, earning yet another jab, this one lightly touching his toned stomach.

"Didn't know you in the 2000s," Louis said as if this was the most unobvious statement ever to pass human lips and grace human ears. "Would be a drab and lonely existence not seeing your frog face every day."

Harry shook his head, smoothing the velvety fabric of his suit jacket. He's gone for a white and red checkered number, which would look horrible on anyone else, but somehow, he didn't look like a walking picnic blanket. Louis knew he couldn't afford to be as bold and instead wore a flattering royal blue dress shirt that hugged his hips nicely, as well as a pair of black trousers. They both looked good, and they both want to tell each other that they look good, but of course, they didn't.

Why? God knows.

"I don't know why you got it in your head that I look like a frog," Harry said. "I resemble nothing of the sort."

But Louis only smiled and held the door open for his co-host. "Whatever you say, froggy."

A few stuck-out tongues and playground insults later (they really did act like children, both of them), they were situated behind the set of Late Changes, ready to pop out from behind a curtain on cue. The boys shared one last glance before intro music began to play over the speakers. Audience cheers blared in their ears as Harry and Louis stepped into the view of the cameras and live audience, cheeks sore from smiling. Routine ingrained into their brains after several seasons of their show, the two waited for the commotion to die down before launching into their daily monologue.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Late Changes, where everything changes except for Harry's grease factory of a hairstyle."

Harry pouted on cue, then gave a well-rehearsed chuckle. "We've got a great show for you tonight. Games, skits, and invasive interviews with Niall Horan, Liam Payne, and Zayn Malik, otherwise known as," he paused for dramatic effect, "Midnight Memories!"

"But that's not all," Louis continued seamlessly. "Tonight, one of our lovely audience members will go home with tickets to any Midnight Memories show of their choice! We'll tell you all about that later, but for now, let's get on with the show!"

* * *

"Now, you three have been together for a year now, correct?" Harry asked, placing his elbows on his and Louis's shared desk. Across from them, the members of Midnight Memories sat contently in their chairs, minutes of causal discussion already setting the tone for a pleasant interview.

"Yes, that's right," Liam smiled. Something Harry and Louis noticed the first time they interviewed the boys was that he typically spoke the most during discussions unless questions were directed towards a specific band member. As such, the hosts had spoken earlier about trying to address each boy directly to maximize their content. They were good at that kind of thing—other things, such as realizing the other's apparent love for them, not so much.

"And what a year it has been," Louis exclaimed. "You guys rose to fame quicker than anyone expected, didn't you boys?" The band nodded in agreement. "Your first album was the highest-grossing UK track of 2013, let's not forget," he paused to allow the crowd to cheer, "and you're already releasing your next album! How have you dealt with the fast pace of it all, Zayn?"

Zayn glanced at Liam, then Niall, his expression unsure. Louis felt bad for putting the shy member of the band on the spot like that, but Zayn rarely spoke unless spoken to, and that wouldn't do well for ratings.

"It's a lot, yeah, but, erm, it's easier with the lads. We kind of...depend on each other to get through things."

"Yeah," Niall agreed, cutting off Zayn's deteriorating train of thought. The raven-haired boy flashed his bandmate an obvious look of gratitude. "I mean, the job would be so dull without the lads. Can't imagine it."

"I feel you," Harry said, gesturing towards his co-host. "This job would be incredibly boring without Louis here to ruin my fun."

"Oh, please," Louis scoffed, but his easy-going smile hinted that banter rather than an argument was brewing. "You wouldn't be able to do shit without me, Mr. I'm-Twenty-and-I-Still-Can't-Tie-A-Tie." He glanced at the audience incredulously. "Can you believe someone as gifted as I has to work with such a loon?"

"Hey!" Harry protested, turning to face Louis. For a moment, it seemed as if both had forgotten their guests, the pair's gazes fixed solely on each other. "You know what? I don't feel safe in this environment, actually. Might quit and let you do this on your lonesome."

"Aww, c'mon, Harold," Louis said teasingly. "Who else would I bully around here? And no one gives shoulder massages like you do."

"I knew it! You're just using me for my big hands."

"I'm sure that's what you tell all of your one-night stands," Louis joked.

"Lou, for god sakes, it's a family show!" Harry said, though there was an unmistakable pink tint on his pale cheeks. He waited until the audience stopped cheering for his iconic catchphrase before adding, "...Or is it?"

Suddenly, a spurt of laughter came from the Irish member of the group.

"What's so funny, mate?" Louis asked once the crowd quieted down.

"You, I just, you can't just," he choked back a howl, "You two are like a fucking married couple. I can literally feel the tension from here. Just...I don't know! Make out or some shit already before both of you explode!"

Niall's smirk only grew as the studio audience whooped at his statement. It was no secret that Harry and Louis had incredible on-screen chemistry, but Niall always seemed to take it a step further whenever they interviewed him. The first time they met, he innocently and obliviously referred to the co-hosts as "a lovely couple." It took them ages to calm down before they could correct him. Harry? Louis? Together? Absolutely absurd.

Well, it really, really wasn't, but they neither was about to admit that.

Harry's face became a dark, rosy shade. Knowing he wouldn't speak up, Louis cleared his throat and said, "You haven't heard, dear Nialler? We already got married. Yeah, it was last year, actually. February thirty-first. Beautiful ceremony, lots of cake, you know, the whole shebang. It's really too bad you weren't invited. Oops."

The atmosphere became light and airy once again, though, for the rest of the segment, Harry and Louis couldn't help but steal glances each other's way, a version of what could be if only they were brave enough circling their minds.

* * *

"Ooh, this will be good," Harry laughed, looking across the table at the members of Midnight Memories. They had just begun a round of Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts, one of the show's most popular bits, and things were already heating up. "Zayn, between Liam, Niall, and yourself, rank your voices from best to worst."

The audience collectively oohed and awwed while Zayn scoffed.

"I can't answer that, you know I can't," he frowned, picking up the chunk of pigs brain in front of him. With little hesitation, he brought his fork to his mouth and took a bite of the stuff. A second later, he grabbed the bucket from beside his chair and spat it out. "That was probably the worst thing I've ever eaten."

"That's kind of the point, innit?" Louis chuckled. He spun the wheel of atrocities around until one-thousand-year-old eggs landed in front of him. Gross. He'd definitely be answering this question. "Alright, my turn. Hit me with your best shot, Liam."

"Alright, then." the tall, muscular boy said, selecting a card. His face contorted into amusement, and Louis' heart did an involuntary flip. Why was he so nervous? He's played this game a million times! Something about today just felt different, though why he couldn't pinpoint.

"Get on with it, lad," Louis said, causing the audience to titter.

"Are you– alrighty then, you asked for it," Liam grinned. "Louis, sleep with, marry, kill. It's between your ex, Eleanor Calder, Bebe Rexa...and Harry."

The crowd reacted as you'd probably expect, with lots of catcalls and excited murmurs. Everyone was on the edge of his seat. Including, funnily enough, Harry himself, who was oh-so-desperate to know what his crush of two years would say.

"Well, uh, I," he fumbled. Just lie, Louis, he thought. It's simple. Make a joke of it like you always do.

"Eleanor's a lovely girl, couldn't kill her. I'll say marry. Then...sleep with Bebe and," he turned to Harry, "I guess that means I'm dragging you six feet under. Sorry, Haz."

The crowd booed. Harry gave a small smile and let out a cute little "boo" of his own, which Louis found way too attractive to be justifiable.

"Really, Lou? You'd kill me? C'mon, I'd make a great husband!" He brought his voice to a low murmur and added, "And an even better shag."

Thankfully, the crowd didn't seem to have heard it, but Louis certainly did. And if he said his mind wasn't in the gutter for the rest of the segment, well, he'd be a big, fat liar.

* * *

They'd never used lie detectors on-air before, and a week ago, Midnight Memories' visit to the set of Late Changes sounded like the perfect opportunity to test it out, but now, Louis wasn't so sure. He didn't know how accurate the thing was, let alone if the writers had betrayed him once again with embarrassing questions. If something about Harry came up, he was genuinely, seriously going to die.

First, though, it was Niall's turn.

"Alright, Niall, Paul here is going to hook you up to the machine," Harry said as a tall, burly man taped several wires to the blonde boy's chest and temples. "Just answer as honestly as you can, and there won't be a problem, alright?"

"Yeah, easy for you to say. You're not hooked up to this death machine."

That drew a laugh from the crowd, which seemed to relax Niall's unease somewhat, though not enough for him to let go of Zayn and Liam's hands, who were laughing quietly to themselves next to him.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Louis shouted, hyping up the crowd. "Alright, first question," he continued at the same time Harry said the same thing. The two boys glanced at one another, chuckled, and tried to ignore the heat in their chests. "Niall, would you want to go solo if you had the chance?"

"No, course not!" He responded immediately, his tone defensive. "I love the guys, and I love what I do. Wouldn't change it for the world."

"That's true," Paul said, and it felt like the world breathed a sigh of relief.

Harry and Louis continued to question the rest of the boys, taking turns as they inquired about embarrassing hobbies, girlfriends, and everything in between. At one point, Niall admitted to hating his X-Factor audition, Liam set straight the absurd rumor about his fear of spoons, and Zayn tried to deny the obsessive amount of hair product he owned (to no avail). Soon, the boys were out of the hot seat, and the machine was hooked up to Harry, who involuntarily squeezed Louis's hand for support. Louis disregarded the cameras and squeezed back.

"I'm excited for this," Liam announced cheekily. "Time to get the dirt on our two favorite co-hosts."

"Right, good luck finding anything on Hazza here. He's about as incriminating as a unicorn eating cotton candy," Louis chuckled, mostly to ban his worried thoughts to the back of his brain. Without thinking, the shorter boy leaned over and sniffed Harry's neck, trying to make a show of it, though he briefly got lost in the heavenly scent of the younger's cologne. "Smells like it, too."

"It's my natural scent, Loubear. 'S why so many fine people like yourself find me irresistible," Harry said, bumping Louis's shoulder. The audience cooed.

"Alright, losers, first question," Niall said, earning the crowd's laughter. He read the question, then set his card down, grinning. "Harry, how long can you go without seeing Louis before you start missing him?"

"Five seconds," Louis murmured because, really, he couldn't help it. Unfortunately, his mic picked up the statement this time, sending the crowd into a fit of hysterics. Great, he thought. That'll be some sort of news story by tomorrow, won't it?

Harry looked uncertain. He glanced around the room, and when his gaze landed on the feather-haired boy, it softened somewhat. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Dunno, really, maybe a few weeks?"

Everyone looked at Paul expectantly, who cracked a small smile and shook his head. "That's a lie."

"What, so more or less time?" Zayn asked. If anything good would come out of tonight, it was the fact that Louis and Harry got Zayn to speak up more than once, which always guaranteed great feedback from fans.

"More, obviously," Harry said weakly, responding to his audience's amusement with a meek smile.

But yet again, Paul shook his head. "That's also not true."

It seemed as if Harry would never stop blushing. He didn't know if he should keep going or try to work his way out of the situation. One look at his producer's elated expression backstage, though, and he knew he had to continue. Hey, good TV is good TV, no matter whose expense it was at.

Yeah, that made sense.

"Aww, do you miss me when I'm not around? Do you miss your Boobear?" Louis teased. "What? Can't go more than a minute without wishing I was beside ya?"

"Don't be stupid, of course I can go more than a minute without missing you," Harry said offhandedly, feigning confidence.

His heart dropped to his stomach, though, when Paul, for the third, agonizing time, gave a small shake of his head and said, "Nope. False."

Alright, now this was bad. Because Harry had just accidentally admitted to his infatuation with his co-host, even if it was indirectly. He didn't look over at Louis to gauge his reaction (who, by the way, was just as flustered as him, those lovestruck assholes), just continued to face the camera with a showman's smile plastered on his face. It was too late to backtrack now. He'd have to make the best of his situation.

"You have pictures of me hanging on your wall too?" Louis laughed, and Harry chuckled along with the crowd but didn't dare say anything because, um, well. Yes, yes, he did. Of him and Lou, of course. He wasn't a stalker. 

Harry answered a few more questions, none of which we about Louis, before he got up and the older boy sat in his place, allowing Paul to set up the lie detector. Well, at least the bad part's over, he thought.

Oh, but it wasn't. It really, really wasn't. Because then, Niall picked up his card, cleared his throat, and said, "Louis, would you rather get back with your ex or ask your crush out on a date?"

Well, okay, this should be an easy one. Because obviously, he'd rather date Eleanor than ask out Harry, right? That would only end in disaster. Sure, he might not like her as anything more than a friend, but she was a nice enough girl, wasn't she? Dating her would be better than utter humiliation.

So, confidence coursing through his veins, Louis sighed and responded, "I reckon I'd rather get back with my ex."

But Paul, that bastard, shook his head, confirming Louis's suspicions. "False."

"Ooh! Louis has got a crush, how cute," Liam taunted. Louis scowled and flipped him off, which only made the singer laugh harder. "Who is it, mate? Is it me? I wouldn't be surprised if it were me."

"No way," Louis laughed. He was more than thankful when Paul nodded his head, confirming it was a truthful statement.

"Who is it, then?" Niall asked. His eyes widened. "Ooh! I bet it's Bebe! You two have been friends forever. You've got to have a crush on her."

Don't give my manager any ideas, Louis thought. Quickly, he stole a glance at Harry, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Louis probably thought this was strange. However, Harry knew exactly what he was thinking, and that was that he wanted a word with whomever Louis fancied so much. Not that it was his right, but, you know. Still.

To Harry's relief, Louis smiled and shook his head. "Nope, it's not her, either."

Louis was certain they'd move on to the next question when, out of the blue, an audience member shouted, "is it Harry?"

"Ooh, yeah, Lou," Niall pestered over the crowd's shock and amusement. "Is it?"

His cheeks were red and most definitely hot, and his mind was a blank slate. How was he supposed to get out of this one? There was not a joke in the world that would distract from the truth, nor a way he could work around the right answer without the lie detector going off. No, he'd have to think of something, anything else, something completely, totally, one-hundred percent false and answer that question instead.

I like Eleanor. I like Eleanor. I like Eleanor. He internally repeated the statement over and over before clearing his tightening throat and giving a quiet, almost inaudible, "No."

He focused his gaze on Paul, fingers crossed and heart hopeful, silently begging for him to confirm his statement so they could move on with the show. But, no. Either he couldn't see the desperation written all over Louis's face, or he just didn't want to, but that man, that evil, horrible man (at least in Louis's eyes. Everyone else, on the other hand, loved him with all of their hearts from that day forward), looked the shorter man square in the eyes and, ever so slowly, shook his head.

"That is not true."

The world had frozen, stopped spinning on its axis, or maybe just exploded altogether. He really just did that. Louis just outed himself on national television. He didn't know what Harry was thinking, and frankly, he didn't want to. 

Harry, on the other hand, was dying to know who was pulling this sick prank on him. Louis? Louis Tomlinson had a crush on him? No way. There was absolutely no fucking way. What was happening? What was life? Why the hell was the audience screaming as loudly as they were? He had no clue. All he knew was that Louis William Tomlinson just told him he liked him. He was on top of the world. 

Slowly, Harry glanced over at Louis, eyes questioning and mouth still agape. Louis was a mess of blushing and nervous twitching, but somehow, he managed to mouth something along the lines of, "Talk later." And Harry, of course, nodded, promising they would.

"Damn, Tommo, that's some heavy stuff," Niall said with a slight smirk, pulling the two hosts back to the present. Oh, right, yeah. They still had a show to close.

"Right, well, who wouldn't like him?" Louis asked. He didn't want to play it off as a joke, really, he didn't, but there was no other way to save himself (and Harry) from further embarrassment. "Green eyes, proper fit, curly hair, and dad jokes? You're the full package, Hazza."

And, well, no, that wasn't any better, given that Louis just admitted to being physically attracted to him as well, but it allowed Harry to laugh it off and finish the segment, ending what started as innocent fun and quickly became a whirlwind of what the actual fuck just happened.

* * *

Niall, Zayn, and Liam performed their new single, Right Now, flawlessly to end the evening. Afterward, Harry and Louis closed the show and told everyone to tune in tomorrow night for special guests Billie and Fineas Eilish, though neither boy was sure whether they'd be alive for the occurrence or if they'd die of embarrassment beforehand. The moment the cameras stopped rolling, both hosts rushed backstage.

Harry was a few steps ahead of Louis, so by the time he reached their dressing room (which, they should have realized they'd have to talk, or at least see each other, in order to change and wash up), Harry was already undressing. Unbuttoning his shirt, to be more exact, so that when Louis opened the door, he was greeted by the green-eyed boy's smooth chest.

"Oh, uh, Lou, I..." he trailed, at a loss for words. Subconsciously, he covered his bare chest with his hands. "Sorry, I'll move, I–"

"I'm so sorry," Louis gasped, shaking his head. He grimaced at his insistent tone. "That must have been so awkward for you, and like, I know you probably see me as a brother, and now things are just gonna be weird between us, but I'm really hoping you can just forget I ever said anything so I can go back to pining over you from a distance. I just...I value our friendship so much, and I really, really don't want to lose you. Please, just...I'm sorry."

The shorter boy was out of breath by the time he finished his rant. Frankly, Harry didn't know what to say. He was too shocked to be elated. For a bit, anyway. Then, he broke out in a grin so wide it ought to have hurt his cheeks.

"Wait, you...you were serious? About liking me?"

Louis, despite the weight of the situation, couldn't help but scoff. "What part about lie detector don't you understand, Hazza? I couldn't have faked it even if I wanted to."

Harry let out a shaky breath. No way. He thought. No way, no way. Shit, shit, shit. 

"So...you like me?" He asked again, stepping closer to Louis, who blushed furiously. 

"Maybe a little," he squeaked.

Harry didn't know where all this newfound confidence was coming from, but he suddenly found himself mere inches away from the older boy's face, heart pounding in his chest as he spoke the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for the past two years.

"What if I told you I've been in love with you since we met in the studio bathrooms?"

And oh. Wow. Louis didn't know what to say. This was a dream, surely. Any moment now, he'd wake up and curse himself for having such a vivid imagination. Any moment, his alarm would go off, and he'd sluggishly get out of bed and get ready for work. Any second now. He felt like pinching himself to speed up the process.

Except...he wasn't waking. Harry was still in front of him, smiling widely, telling him the very thing he'd wanted to hear for as long as he could remember. 

Please don't wake up, Louis thought.

"I'd say you're crazy," Louis breathed, his voice barely audible. "Why would you be in love with me? I'm...well, I'm me, Haz. You...you're amazing. In literally every way, at literally everything."

Harry said nothing at first, his eyes scanning Louis, lingering on every beautiful curve of his body, every single inch of perfection. Then, he cupped the brunette boy's face and leaned in closer so that he could feel Louis's staggered breathing on his skin.

"We're going to work on the self-depreciation later. You're literally perfect, Lou," Harry whispered. "But fine, I'll take the compliment. I'm pretty good at a lot of things."

"Hmm," Louis hummed in response. Hey, give the guy a break. He was closer to Harry than he'd ever been before. It was a miracle his heart hadn't stopped working. 

"You know something I'm good at?" The taller boy asked. 

Louis shook his head. "No. What?"

In one swift motion, Harry brought his lips to Louis's. Both boys were certain the heavens opened up upon contact, that harps were playing, and angels were singing their praises. That was what the kiss felt like, at least. They'd both been waiting so long, so fucking long, and now it was happening. To say that they were on cloud nine would be an understatement. They were soaring, flying (there's not a star in heaven that they can't reach), and holding on to every nanosecond. Not that either of them would ever forget this night, but, you know. Just in case.

After an eternity that, in actuality, was only a few seconds, they broke away. Louis was a smiling mess. Harry was a giggling mess. Both of them were just messes, really, but they were beautiful messes, and it was perfect. They were perfect. At that very moment, that wonderful, blissful moment in time. 

Harry leaned back towards Louis, kissed him delicately on the cheek, and muttered, "That. That's something I'm good at."

And for the rest of his life, Louis would learn just how good of a kisser Harry really was.

**Author's Note:**

> I have yet to figure out how to italicize and bold words, so sorry about that. Hope this was good anyways!


End file.
